


tear down my reason

by M0stlyVoid



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overuse of pet names, Rimming, Writer Jensen Ackles, author!Jensen, really just the stupidest premise as an excuse for porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:26:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22639324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M0stlyVoid/pseuds/M0stlyVoid
Summary: Jensen has writer's block. Jared's trying to deal with it best he can, but nothing he's tried so far is working...
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Comments: 4
Kudos: 76





	tear down my reason

**Author's Note:**

> This was a gift fic written back in 2011-2012 on Livejournal.

“God fucking damn _shit_!”

Jared winces as a loud crash echoes through the apartment. There goes another lamp…or a paperweight, or a book, or hell, maybe even one of the cabinets. Jensen has some kind of freakish inhuman strength when he’s frustrated, and this is shaping up to be a meltdown for the record books.

Jared creeps a bit closer to the closed door at the end of the hallway, eyeing it like a monster was going to jump out and eat him. Which, he considers, isn’t all that inaccurate a description of his boyfriend when Jensen is suffering writer’s block.

Dating a semi-famous, fairly successful author isn’t actually as awesome as it might seem. Sure, they usually don’t have to wait for a table at the nicer restaurants in town, and Jared supposes that the discount at the bookstore is nice, but that’s really more Jensen’s thing than his (he mostly uses his on buying novelty calendars and comedians’ biographies, much to Jensen’s despair), plus he _hates_ having to deal with all the employees tripping over themselves and practically jizzing their pants over _his_ Jensen.

Okay, it’s not like he blames them. Jared’s boyfriend is hot – like, seriously, movie-star handsome – and he’s got just the right amount of social awkwardness to make his blushes and stammers endearing, _plus_ he’s unbelievably talented. Of _course_ Jared’s read his books – he’s been reading everything Jensen’s ever written since they were juniors in college, and that includes his near-intolerable Thomas Pynchon-pretentious phase, which Jensen at the time thought was completely genius and _insightful_ but Jared really just thought was a bunch of words strung together in just the right order to make Jensen sound like a first-class asshole. Jensen agrees with him now, as it turns out, and Jared is under strict instructions, if Jensen is to tragically die at the height of his fame, to _never_ posthumously release the documents in the envelope labeled “Burgundy Mountainsides.”

No, not kidding. That’s what it was called.

Anyway. Jared pauses outside The Door when he hears another crash, followed by profanity that Jared is deeply grateful never sees the light of day; he’s pretty sure that Jensen would lose quite a bit of his shine to those starry-eyed fans if they ever saw him like _this_. Writer’s block, sure – Jared’s had that before when he was still in college struggling with essays (Jensen likes to snottily point out it was actually called “procrastination,” but what does _he_ know anyway), but this? This is just above and beyond reasonable artistic frustrations.

Jared is actually kind of worried about this most recent tantrum, though. It’s been at least six weeks since Jensen’s produced anything that wasn’t destroyed furnishings and frightened dogs, and he’s been locking himself in The Study for upwards of six hours a day with barely any breaks to eat. Jared’s also been fielding increasingly frantic phone calls from Jensen’s agent and publisher, and they’re sounding more desperate each day. Yesterday he embarrassed himself on the phone with _the president of the publishing company_, and he’s getting frustrated himself.

He pulls himself together and presses his ear to The Door, straining for signs of life and hoping Jensen hasn’t knocked himself out with whatever he’d been messing with. The steady _rip, rip, rip_ of paper being torn from a notebook reassures him, so Jared takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and knocks.

What sounds like a sneaker hits the door from the other side, and Jared sighs. “Jensen.”

“No.”

“C’mon, Jense, you have to come out. It’s almost 9 and we promised we’d go see Chris at the bar tonight. We’ve missed the last _three_, and I’m not sure, but I’d rather keep my dick.”

“Fuck you.”

“Gladly, baby, but we can’t do that when you’re stuck on the other side of a locked door.”

“…it’s not actually locked today.”

Jared tries the handle and is shocked when The Door does indeed swing inward. Normally he needs express permission to come in, and recently Jensen’s barred him from entering entirely – leaving the door unlocked is the closest Jared thinks his boyfriend can get to begging for rescue from his own brain.

Taking a cautious step in, Jared has to bite down on a grin. Jensen is sitting in the middle of the floor, minus one shoe (Jared promptly stumbles over the other one), arms crossed and surrounded by crumpled and torn pieces of paper. Add the mutinous expression on his face and the lower lip jutting out, and Jensen looks all of five.

Jared strides over and kneels down, tugging at Jensen’s arms to loosen them. “Baby, come on. You’re killing yourself in here, and if you don’t succeed, Chris will be happy to assist if we miss his gig _again_.”

Jensen sighs, sounding immensely put-upon, and allows himself to be dragged out of The Study. “I just can’t do it any more, Jare. May as well send my advance back and just disappear.”

“Stop being so overdramatic, Jensen. It’ll come back. You just gotta get out of your head for a while. Find inspiration, get a little done – then you can call Martha and Tim and Mr. Random House back and tell them you’re doing fine and they can stop calling.” Jared is aware he might sound a little bit whiny at that last part.

Jensen cracks a smile at that. “His name is Brad, baby. Not Mister Random House.”

“Whatever. Point is, stop worrying so much and it’ll come to you. Meantime, we made a promise, and I’m not in the mood to piss Kane off.”

“What, are you _scared_ of Chris or something, Jared? Cause, you know, he’s never _actually_ killed a man just to watch him die.”

“We don’t _know_ that,” Jared mutters darkly, steering Jensen into their bedroom and pushing him towards the master bath. “Now, go shower. You’re sweaty and angry. What exactly were you tossing around in there?”

Jensen suddenly becomes fascinated with the sneaker he’s clutching. “Um. It was the painting.”

Jared waits.

“…and the desk chair.”

“Jesus Christ, Jensen, we _just_ had that replaced!”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll, uh...I’ll go shower now?”

“That thing was, like, solid oak, and had enough cushions to float a fuckin’ tanker! How in the hell did you _lift_ it?” But Jensen is already hastily shutting the bathroom door.

Jared shakes his head fondly as the shower starts and the radio flicks on. Soon enough, Jensen is singing loudly to whatever pop sensation is playing on the Top 40 channel – loudly, and off-key, which is weird because he actually sings very well in front of people. Jensen also denies that he sings in the shower at _all_, though, so Jared guesses he thinks he’s a lot quieter than he actually is.

Shaking his head, Jared opens their closet and pulls out some clothes appropriate for the bar they’re headed to. Jensen in this state of mind would probably show up in some weird formalwear/pajamas combo, so Jared takes extra care to ensure everything at least matches.

He’s thrilled he was able to get Jensen out of The Study and into the real world, but honestly, Jared isn’t sure this is a good sign as far as Jensen’s writing goes. When Jen’s on a roll, _nothing_ can tear him away from his desk, and everything in that room is usually meticulously arranged in some indefinable pattern that satisfies his OCD and keeps him motivated and focused. Jensen tearing the place apart and actually _leaving_ the room with minimal fussing indicates a bigger problem than Jared had been anticipating, and despite his optimistic words from earlier, he feels misgiving curling in his gut. If a night out with friends and music doesn’t kick Jensen’s muse back into action, Jared’s gonna have to figure something else out – his boyfriend is spiraling, and he needs to fix it, pronto, before Jensen goes completely insane and graduates from fucking up the furniture to, like, performing seppuku or a ritual sacrifice of Jared and the dogs or something.

Okay, so maybe Jared can be overdramatic, too. Sue him. He lives with the world’s most mercurial author.

Jared hears the shower switch off and forces the frown off his face – if he’s gonna be at _all_ useful in helping Jensen get his groove back, he can’t let his own worries show. Jensen’s gonna be anxious enough about going out; in fact, Jared’s expecting some kind of protest right…about…

“Jared, I don’t think I should go tonight, after all. You go. Tell Chris I’m sorry,” comes through the bathroom door, and Jared gives himself a mental point.

“Babe, there is no way in _hell_ I’m sitting through Christ and Steve’s drunk shenanigans alone, you know that.”

“Mike and Tommy will be there!”

“Since when do Mike and Tommy count as reasonable company? They’ll be too busy getting shithouse wasted and trying to make me take the most disgusting shots they can think of. Jen, c’mon. You already showered. We can grab some wings there, some cheese fries, some beer…” Jared makes his voice as wheedling as possible, and when he hears the bathroom door open, swings around so his begging-face is pointed full-force in Jensen’s direction.

Jensen takes one look at him and groans, hitching the towel higher up around his waist and walking to their dresser. “God damn it, Jay, cut it out. Fine.” Unceremoniously, he drops the towel as he digs around for a pair of boxers, and Jared’s eyes flick down to Jensen’s _magnificent_ ass. Mmm. Hopefully this night will relax them both enough so they can actually fuck – the past week or so, Jared’s been too tired and Jensen too whiny for anything outside of perfunctory hand jobs.

“Stop starin’, Jay. _You’re_ the one who insisted we go out, so we’re goin’.” Jensen shoots him a glare in the middle of bending over to tug his boxer-briefs up his legs. Jared leers, and Jensen looks away a bit too slowly to hide his grin. Fuckin’ tease.

The bar is crowded and damned loud when they get there – Kane gets its fans mainly by word-of-mouth, and by the looks of it, quite a few people have been doing a lot of talking. Jared gets deposited at a corner booth to hold it while Jensen heads to the bar in search of sustenance – he’s not allowed to go pick rounds up any more, ever since he left their entire group waiting for half an hour while he and the woman next to him had an intensive conversation about the superiority of rescue dogs over purebreds. Jensen had finally been sent to collect him, and they’d both held back laughs when the woman’s face had absolutely fallen at his proprietary arm around Jared’s waist. Not being allowed to visit the bar unsupervised doesn’t keep him from having to pay for his rounds, Jared notes sulkily, drumming his fingers on the tabletop and scanning the crowd for their friends.

He’s not entirely sure if Jensen is qualified to wander off alone, either, since nearly every time he heads up for a drink he gets free beers pressed on him by fans of his series and university students who’ve read his books for class and recognize him from the dust jacket. Jared is forced to admit that Jensen usually just stutters until people leave him alone, though, and therefore doesn’t get entangled in long conversations while his friends wait thirstily.

He’s interrupted by two thumps as Mike and Tommy flop onto the booth bench to his left and Mike slings an arm around his shoulders. “Jayyy-red! You’re alive! We thought you and Van Gogh had finally fulfilled that tragically romantic murder-suicide pact and we’d be reading about how your corpses were found hand-in-hand atop a bed strewn with black rose petals and surrounded by candles.”

Jared blinks and glances over at Tom, who shakes his head. “No, _Mike_ thought that. _I_ thought it was more likely that Jensen was just stuck on a burst of inspiration and had locked himself away. Also, Mike? Van Gogh was a _painter_. Who cut off his _ear_.”

Mike beams unconcernedly at Jared and ignores Tom. “So? Where is the mad genius?”

Jared can’t help but smile. Mike and Tommy are such an odd-couple set of best friends. “He’s up at the bar getting us food and some beer. He…guys, don’t ask him about his writing. We haven’t been MIA because he’s had a burst of inspiration…he hasn’t written anything in, like, a month and a half.”

His friends sober instantly, and Mike slants a look at Tom before turning back to Jared. “Yeah, sure thing, ix-nay on the iting-wray. We’ll do our damndest to dist-JENNY!” Mike shoves Tom out the booth and leaps into Jensen’s arms. Tom barely manages to catch himself from falling onto the ground and exchanges an incredulous look with Jared.

Jensen laughs and staggers a bit until he’s able to stabilize his grip around Mike’s waist. “Hey, guys. How’s it been? Mikey, you can get off at any time.”

Mike only clings harder and buries his face into Jensen’s neck, but even with his expression hidden, the leer is loud and clear in his voice. “Oh, baby, I’m gonna take you up on that,” he smarms.

Jensen throws his head back and laughs, and Jared’s chest feels warm. Looks like this evening is gonna do exactly what he was hoping it would – distract Jensen, cheer him up, and kick his inspiration’s ass until it does its job and gives him his words back.

And if it gets Jared laid tonight, too, he’s not going to complain.

Jared blinks slowly and leans up against the wall next to their apartment door, squinting at Jensen as he fumbles with the key to unlock their door. “Baby, c’mon,” he slurs. “Jen, Iwannafuckyou. C’mon open th’door.”

Jensen stumbles, and Jared giggles at how drunk his boyfriend is. To be fair, it might have been because Jared had suddenly leaned on his back and propped his head on Jensen’s shoulder. “Jay cut it out, I’m tryin’, damn key is sticky.”

“I’m gonna make _you_ sticky.”

Jensen chuckles as he finally swings the door inwards and guides them inside, batting at the light switches until they flick on. Jared wraps his arms around Jensen’s waist and mouths at his jawline, pointing them in what seems like it should be the bedroom. “Lessgo Jen.”

Jensen tilts his head to the side and shivers a little as Jared’s lips hit the juncture of his throat and shoulder. Jared bites lightly down at the line and growls softly as Jensen moans.

“C’mon, baby. Stop pawin’ at me and we can get to the bedroom…Jay, you gotta leggome for a second, kay?”

“Ohhhhh-kay,” Jared sighs, unwinding himself and allowing them to weave towards the bedroom. He is happy. He is _sooooooo_ happy because Jensen is happy and smiling and not stressed and now he gets to have _sex_ with his super-hot boyfriend! Alcohol is awesome.

Jensen veers into the bathroom and Jared flops on the bed, dreamily contemplating the ceiling and thinking about all the things he’s going to do to his superhotsexy boyfriend who’s gonna be…back…any minute…

Jared is dying.

It’s the only explanation, really. His head feels like it might have actually turned itself inside out overnight and now there are tiny hammers whaling away at the exposed brain matter. His mouth taste like unspeakable, horrific things, and his arms ache – probably because the left one is twisted behind his head and his right is thrown all the way across to the other side of his body. He also appears to still be fully dressed, which means that he probably did _not_ get any hot sex last night.

He peels his eyes open and turns his head slowly to the right, spotting Jensen lying under the covers, in his pajamas, apparently resting peacefully. Bastard.

“Jensen.” Wow, is that his voice? He can barely understand _himself_. “Jensen,” he tries again, feeling a flash of pride that he managed to be halfway intelligible this time. It’s the little victories.

Jensen, however, refuses to stir and continues looking annoyingly comfortable. Jared takes a deep breath and flops his right arm over his body, landing it squarely on Jensen’s neck.

“Ow!” _There_ we go.

“Jensen, I’m dying,” Jared groans, trying to straighten out the rest of his body and only weakly flailing a little.

Jensen cracks his eyes open and levels Jared with a deeply unimpressed stare. “Maybe you shouldn’t have drank so much last night then. Y’left me high and dry, you know – I came out of the bathroom and you were passed out, wouldn’t even move enough for me to get you out of your clothes. After how much you groped me and then utterly failed on the follow-through? I feel no sympathy.”

Jared sighs and manages to roll over so he’s facing his boyfriend. “Well, can you at least get me water and an ibuprofen? I’m pretty sure if I stand up, I’ll fall right back down – I think I’m still a little drunk.”

Jensen’s sitting up by now; he throws his head back and full-on laughs at that. Even through the alcoholic haze and the near-unbearable throbbing in his head, Jared manages to note the crinkles around his boyfriend’s eyes and muster up a smidgeon of pride. Okay, so he didn’t get exactly the night he’d planned on, but Jensen is relaxed and smiling and more fully present than he’s been for weeks. And really, that’s all Jared wants.

Well, that and about a million pain pills. “Jensen, baby, love of my life – _please_. I might actually be dying here. For real. You don’t wanna get in trouble for involuntary manslaughter, do ya? Pretty little thing like you, wouldn’t last a day in prison.” Oh-_kay_, and that confirms it – Jared is still _quite_ intoxicated.

Jensen, apparently, has also noticed – he’s staring at Jared with one eyebrow climbing up his forehead. “Babe?”

“Yes.”

“Stop talking – maybe _forever_ \- and I’ll get you as many drugs as you want. Just – stop hypothesizing my future as a prison bitch. ‘Kay?”

Jared nods sheepishly and pulls the blanket up to his chest, shaking his hair down in front of his forehead and making his biggest eyes at Jensen, who pauses in tugging a pair of sweatpants up and flashes another heartbreaking grin Jared’s way. “C’mon babe, put ‘em away. I’ll go get your pills.”

“Thaaaaaaaaaank youuuuuuuu.”

Jensen laughs again as he walks out the bedroom, and Jared lifts his head to watch his boyfriend’s pert ass swing as he walks away. God bless those bow legs – and the fact that Jensen threw on Jared’s oldest, most threadbare sweatpants, and not only are patches of the seat practically transparent, but they’re almost slipping down his hips.

Jared sighs and lets his head drop back down onto the pillows, staring at the ceiling and letting himself drift. He can hear Jensen humming a little from the kitchen as he runs the tap and rummages through their cabinets for the ibuprofen – Jensen hasn’t hummed to himself in _weeks_. And – Jared did that. He might feel like absolute shit, but it’s worth it.

“Honeybunches, I brought you something!” Jensen singsongs, walking back into their bedroom. Jared comes out from under the covers and makes grabby-hands towards the glass of water. Jensen passes it over along with three pills, laughing as Jared frantically gulps down the entire thing and then flops dramatically back onto the bed, sighing in exaggerated relief. “Thirsty, huh babe?”

Jared sighs. “You’ve got _no idea_. My mouth was so dry…still is actually…” He attempts a pout, and Jensen just shakes his head and crawls back under the blankets, draping an arm over Jared’s waist and nuzzling into his shoulder. “Get it yourself, darlin’. I’m gonna sleep for a bit longer.”

Jared snakes his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders and sighs, settling in. “Kay. Let’s take a nap.” Lucky, lucky, Jared is so lucky. “Love you, Jense.”

“Love you too, Jay. So much.”

They sleep for a few more hours, and when Jared finally opens his eyes he regrets it immediately. Looks like he’s not drunk any more – which means hello hangover. “Oh, holy _fuck_. Jesus _fucking_ Christ.”

He feels Jensen smile against his collarbone, followed by his teeth digging lightly into the skin on Jared’s neck. “Hey, you. Sobered up?”

“Oh my _god_ what have I _done_.”

“Come on, princess, it’s lunch time. Let’s get up. I’ll make you some mac and cheese with bacon.”

“Ohhhhkay. God damn it I am never gonna drink again.”

Jensen chuckles and presses a kiss to Jared’s lips before sliding out of bed. “Babe, I’ve been hearing you say that every weekend since _college_. I don’t believe you. Now, move that pretty little ass of yours, you’ll feel better after you eat.”

He does, of course, but Jared is alarmed to see his boyfriend’s good mood evaporating as the day goes on. His smiles slow until they disappear, and around dinnertime he flops down on the couch and turns the TV on, staring listlessly at the Food Network.

Jared orders pizza and sits with him and tries to tease him back to a fun mood, but Jensen barely answers beyond monosyllables, and when Jared tentatively suggests he head off to The Study for a bit, Jensen leaps off the couch and storms back to their bedroom, slamming the door as he goes.

Jared sits stunned. Jensen _always_ spends time in that damn room, even when he’s not getting anything done – says it calls him, centers his ridiculous writer’s temperament and chills out his drama-queen overreactions (okay, those might be Jared’s words). For Jensen to take even one day off is so far beyond what Jared feared. It’s time to try something else. Socializing his boyfriend had only been a temporary fix, clearly, but Jared can’t think of anything else to tr-

Oh.

_Oh_.

Well, now. That might work.

Jared grins broadly and switches over to MTV, getting in a few hours of _Jersey Shore_ before heading to bed. He’ll need his energy for tomorrow.

The next day, Sunday, starts off decently. Jensen sleeps in a little, converses nicely over brunch, and makes those “I’m-so-sorry-don’t-you-love-how-pretty-I-am” eyes at Jared to apologize for being a massive bitch the night before. He even drifts over to The Study in the early afternoon.

And Jared waits.

Part of him hopes that he’ll hear typing, or writing, or hell, even another temper tantrum – _something_ to show that Jensen hasn’t just given up. He’s not holding his breath, though, and he’s counting on this last-ditch, desperate plan to shock Jensen’s muse back into business.

But, when he creeps up to the Door of The Study, he hears – nothing. No tap-tap of the keyboard, no scritch-scratch of a pen on paper…not even any muffled curses or shit getting thrown around. Just. Silence.

Jared pauses a second, then shakes his head at himself. After all, he lives here too, so _theoretically_, he can go in this room any time he wants!

With that flawless logic guiding his actions, Jared takes a deep breath and twists the knob, half-surprised that the door actually swings inward. That Jensen forgot entirely to lock the door…well, hopefully, Jared is about to remedy all that, so he won’t have to make dire predictions about his boyfriend’s mental state any more.

Jensen’s head jerks up from its resting place on the desk when the door fully opens and Jared steps into the room. He looks absolutely beaten, but schools his expression to irritation. “Jay. What are you doing in here?”

Jared crosses the room and grabs Jensen’s elbow, lifting him up off the ground and steering him towards the wide leather recliner in the corner. “Enough is enough, Jensen. I’ve watched you for _weeks_ now – you’re miserable, and I can’t just _watch_ any more. Every day you spend in here it gets worse. Clearly, whatever you’re trying to get past this block isn’t working. So – we’re trying something different today.” He pushes Jensen into the chair and pulls out his phone, fiddling with it for a few seconds before setting it onto the side table and straddling Jensen in the chair.

Jensen lets out a weird half-squawk and his hands fly to Jared’s hips as the taller man takes hold of either side of Jensen’s face and begins kissing him hard. A few seconds in, Jensen pulls his face back. “Jared, what – what the _hell_ are you doing? This isn’t – I have to–”

“We’re kissing. For half an hour.”

“…what.”

“I set an alarm on my phone. For the next half-hour, that’s all we’re going to do – kiss. No touching below the belt or under our shirts. _Nothing_ except kissing. Got it?”

Jensen scoffs. “Jared, I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but this isn’t going to–”

“I’m distracting you.” Jared sits back on his haunches a bit and raises an eyebrow. “Unless…well, do you think you can’t make it the whole half hour? Because, I mean, we could think of something _else_…”

Jensen locks eyes with Jared, who shivers as he sees his boyfriend’s pupils dilate until the green is almost completely bled out to inky black. “Yeah _right_,” Jensen growls, fisting Jared’s hair with both hands, yanking him closer and biting at his mouth.

Jared moans and settles back into Jensen’s lap, clutching his shoulders and doing his best to not grind his own pelvis down onto – ah – that’s Jensen’s cock, Jared can actually _feel_ it getting harder, but he can’t rub down into the friction, because he made rules.

Rules that Jensen is apparently hell-bent on breaking, because one of his hands is sneaking towards Jared’s ass, and while he isn’t quite thrusting up into Jared, he’s definitely moving in some, uh, interesting ways.

“Jen- ah, Jensen, hang on, stop a second,” Jared pants, pulling back and looking down at his boyfriend’s flushed face. “Kissing only, remember?”

Jensen narrows his eyes. “You’re serious.”

“Yeah. Half an hour. Just kissing. You _said_ you could do it, but I mean…”

“Fuck that, Jay. You’re gonna be the one who’s going to be crossing the line by the time we’re done,” Jensen mutters, grabbing Jared’s face and pulling him closer. Jared follows with a moan and opens his mouth to Jensen’s tongue.

When Jared’s phone alarm finally goes off, they’re both panting and dripping sweat. Jared’s mouth is numb and swollen, and Jensen seems to be in a similar state, if the way he keeps swiping his tongue over his lower lip is any indication – and Jared can’t stop watching him do it. He’s aware that his breathing hasn’t slowed down in the slightest, and he’s so hard in his jeans that it almost hurts. 

Jensen’s hands are skittering up and down Jared’s back leaving goosebumps and shivers in their wake. His eyes are trained on Jared’s lips, save for when they dip down to stare at his crotch – because yeah, Jared’s dick is pretty fucking _visible_ at this moment, considering how hard he is. From the looks of it though, Jensen is in the same state – his button-fly is distorted from the shape of his cock. Jared’s mouth waters.

“Jared,” Jensen groans, voice down to that sex-drenched rasp that never fails to ratchet up Jared’s arousal even higher. “Baby, you have _got_ to tell me that we’re done now. I gotta…we gotta…”

Jared nods frantically. “Yeah, yeah. We can…yeah. Hang on. Jesus Christ. Hang on, okay?” He just _has_ to lean down once more and bite at Jensen’s swollen lower lip; his boyfriend lets out something that almost sounds like a sob and tugs him closer.

Finally Jared pulls back. “Okay, okay. Okay, Jense, just…just sit for a minute, okay?” He swings his leg over Jensen’s body and stands up, immediately grabbing for the back of the recliner to hold himself up on trembling knees. Damn. Okay, so, phase one – distraction was a definite success. Time for step two. Or. Well, he’s not really in the state of mind to remember _steps_ right now, so – time for something more, cause he’s gonna go crazy if he doesn’t get his hands on Jensen some time soon, and Jensen himself is antsy enough that he might just leap out of that chair and do something himself, which is definitely not in the plan for the afternoon.

Jared leans down and pushes the lever and the back of the chair simultaneously until the recliner leans back, eyes locked on Jensen’s the whole time. “Stay put, baby. Just – don’t move.”

“Jared, this had better be _going_ somewhere,” Jensen growls. Jared shivers.

“Don’t worry. Don’t get up though.”

Jared can feel Jensen’s eyes on him even when he turns to move around more towards the side of the chair. Jensen’s half-propped up from his prone position, resting on his elbows, and his knuckles are clenched white with what looks like an effort to stay put like Jared requested. Jared feels flush at that, feels crazy and powerful and strong, getting his moody, meticulous boyfriend to the brink of losing his self-control, but containing him still just because Jared _asks_.

Slowly, he starts to pull his t-shirt over his head. It gets halfway up his stomach when Jensen starts to moan and mutter half-audible obscenities when he catches onto Jared’s game.

“Mother_fucker_, Jay, Jesus, look at your fuckin’ body. Shit. Oh my god, you’re so fuckin’ hot, babe, c’mon, just get ‘em off and get over here, please Jared…”

But Jared forces himself to move slowly, peeling his shirt off inch by inch, then wiggling his jeans down, then pausing for a long agonizing moment that almost gets Jensen begging in litany before pushing his boxer-briefs off and stepping off the pile. He stands there for just a moment, hand straying down to his own cock for a brief moment while he watches Jensen stare hungrily at him, then fishes a tube of lube out of his discarded pants pockets and straddles Jensen once more.

Jensen immediately starts sitting up again, hands stretched out to get his fingers on Jared’s skin, but Jared puts a hand on Jensen’s chest and shoves him none-too-gently back. He scoots his own body back a little until he’s sitting back on his haunches just out of Jensen’s arm-span.

“You’re a dirty fucking _tease_, Jared, goddamn, let me touch you!”

“Nah,” Jared says carelessly, squeezing out some lube onto his fingers and wetting them until his whole hand shines. Jensen’s eyes are tracking his every movement. “No, you know, I don’t think you _get_ to touch me. Think I’m gonna just make you watch for a while…”

“Jared, _please_.”

“You beg so pretty, Jensen. Should make you do it more. But, it’s still a no. Not yet.”

Jared brings his lubricated hand back down to his dick and hisses at first contact, careful to keep his touch feather-light. He doesn’t want to lose it too soon, after all. He forms a loose fist and drags it slowly down his length, looking down for a second and admiring how fucking _huge_ his cock looks, swollen up with blood and shining with lube, the base encircled by his own big hand.

“Damn, Jensen. You know, I know I’ve got a big dick, but sometimes it’s almost like I forget, you know? But seeing it here in my hand…Christ.”

Jensen is panting, gaze laser-focused on Jared’s dick. “Jay, Jay, move your hand or something if you aren’t gonna let me touch, c’mon…”

Jared drags his hand back up, tossing his head back and moaning loudly. “Oh god. Jesus Christ, that feels so good. I’m so fucking hard, Jensen. Just from kissin’ you for half an hour. Wouldn’t even let you touch me and this is how goddamn worked up you get me. Shit. Ahhh—” He tightens his fist a miniscule amount and twists it back down to the base. “I’m close, Jen. Fuck.”

Jensen doesn’t say a word. All Jared can hear is his ragged pants.

He looks down again, catching Jensen’s eyes. “You know, your hand feels better than mine.” He lets go of his cock and levers himself up a bit, reaching down and tugging on his balls. “You’re so good with your fingers, you’re so - _oh_ \- ” He lets a finger slip back to his hole and barely presses in.

Jensen fucking _whines_, and Jared knows it’s because he can just barely see what Jared’s doing, can guess, but isn’t getting the full view, and Jensen – Jensen _loves_ seeing Jared’s hole all stretched out around something, fingers, tongue, his dick, a toy, _anything_. “Bet you wish you could see that, huh. Well, you’re just gonna have to – ah, god, fuck – gonna have to wait a little bit, because–”

“Jared, please, please, _please_, let me touch you, please let me just – come on Jared, I can do it for you, let me do it, let me suck you, _something_, please please...”

Jared sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh fuck, _Jen_sen. Shit goddamn that’s so hot. Fuck.” He goes back to stroking his cock, taking it as slow as he can stand, twisting on the downstroke and pulling on the up, tapping that spot on the underside just under the head that makes him almost scream with even the lightest touch. His head is leaned back, eyes half-closed and the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth, listening to Jensen beg, whine, fucking almost _cry_ for his dick. Jesus.

Suddenly, that pretty stream of words stops. Jared opens his eyes again and looks back down at Jensen, confused, muddled, just in time to see those green eyes narrow and Jensen’s hands shoot up to his waist. Jensen fucking _manhandles_ him off the show, pushing them away from the chair. He shoves Jared towards the big, solid desk, reaching around and sweeping a pile of notebooks onto the ground before grabbing hold of the back of Jared’s neck and fucking _pushing_ him, forcing Jared to bend double over the desk until his forearms are resting on that solid oak, holding him up.

“Jensen, what –”

“Shut. The fuck. Up.”

And there’s that voice again, a bass-deep growl of words that rips out of Jensen snarling and gravelly and whisky-coated. Jared’s knees wobble. Shit.

“You know, I really should pay you back for all that teasing back there, Jay,” Jensen continues conversationally, putting his mouth right up to Jared’s ear, the breath with each word making him shiver. “But I think I’ve ‘bout had enough of those games.”

“Jeeennn…”

“I believe I told you to hush up.”

Jared trembles, trying to stay in place, head hanging down between his shoulders, struggling to catch his breath. His dick is just dragging the polished edge of the desk, and if he could just – move just a little bit further _up_ \- 

A sharp smack stings his ass. “Don’t fuckin’ try it, Jare.” Jensen kicks at the insides of Jared’s feet until he spreads his legs more, and then –

Jared’s heart stops for a minute. Because Jensen just dropped to his knees behind him, and now there are hands on his ass, pulling him open, and there’s breath light on his hole, and Jared can do literally nothing to stop the full-body shiver that rips through him, nor the moan that’s almost a scream, it’s so loud. “Oh _God_ Jensen.”

“Hmmm,” Jensen hums, before he leans in and licks a stripe right up Jared, straight to his hole.

Jared groans and tries to hold himself so, so still, but his knees are shaking and he’s letting out a whine at the not-nearly-enough pressure of Jensen’s tongue.

Jensen swirls his tongue around Jared’s opening for a while, dipping in just barely every now and then, enough to get a yelp out of Jared that he is _absolutely_ going to deny later, but not doing anything else for the longest time. Time seems to stretch out and hang like strings of honey, and Jared’s eyes are wrenched shut because he knows if they were open he wouldn’t be able to see anyway.

Jensen shuffles a little then, and suddenly the wet heat of his mouth is closing around one of Jared’s balls and sucking lightly, and Jared’s hips twitch forward at the feeling, causing the head of his dick to slide slickly _just_ over the edge of the table and sit there, leaking precome onto that nice varnished wood. “Jensen, Jensen, please, oh shit, oh god that feels good, Jensen…”

Jensen pulls off with a light _pop_ and licks up the seam of his sack, back right to Jared’s hole. He can hear his boyfriend chuckle lightly, then suddenly his tongue is pushing right into his ass, and holy shit.

Jared almost comes right then, but he holds himself rigid and pinches the skin of his wrist for a minute to stave it off. He blinks his eyes open and stares blindly at the opposite wall, struggling for control. “Ah- ah- ah- shit shitshit_shit_.”

Jensen pulls back and bites down _hard_ on the globe of Jared’s ass, before sliding a finger right into where his tongue had just been and pressing just a bit off Jared’s prostate. He moves his mouth to Jared’s spine and starts mouthing his way up each knob, licking and biting his way up his back.

When he gets to Jared’s neck, Jensen abruptly sticks two more fingers inside him and presses directly on his prostate, latching onto the juncture of jaw and neck at the same time. Jared _howls_. He would’ve come then, from the combined attack of pressure and pleasure and pain, but Jensen’s other hand – and how had he gotten it there? – is at his chest, pulling him back up off the desk just enough so that he can’t get any friction on his cock at all, and it’s just. not. enough.

“JESUS Jensen, oh please, come on, Jensen, just fucking _fuck_ me already – ”

“Yeah,” Jensen rasps into his ear, sucking another mark onto Jared’s neck before he licks his way up and bites his earlobe. “Yeah, baby, okay, just lemme…” He pulls his fingers out of Jared, who whines at the absence and pushes his ass back, begging without the words he’s not sure he’s even capable of any more.

He hears Jensen fumbling his jeans and shirt off, and then the distinctive _snick_ of the lube, and Jensen’s breath stutters – no doubt he’s slicking himself up and desperately circling his fingers around the base of his own cock, trying not to come. Jared quivers, tense with anticipation as much as he tries to relax, because – 

_Finally_, Jensen shoves his dick into Jensen with a sharp exhale, not stopping until he’s totally bottomed out. He doesn’t even give Jared any time to adjust, setting a hard, fast pace that causes him to push on Jared’s prostate with each pass.

Jared can feel Jensen’s fingernails digging into his hips, their sweat dripping down to the tiny indentations and making them sting. His skin feels like it’s fallen asleep, all tingles and pins and needles, and his hyper-sensitive nerve endings are misfiring from all over the place – those fingernail dents are heading straight to his cock, and the feel of Jensen’s balls slapping into his own with each shove, and the harsh, damp pants of Jensen’s breath on his spine from where Jensen’s got his forehead resting on Jared’s back, the scrape of his stubble – all of it is lighting him up and it’s almost too much. He’s headed towards orgasm _fast_, without a touch to his own dick, and his vision is starting to blur around the edges.

Jensen’s breaths are getting shorter, rougher, and the smoothfasthard pace he’d set at the beginning is starting to stutter, become shorter – he’s close too. Jared twists his neck around and catches Jensen’s mouth into a desperate kiss, feeling himself reach that edge and ache to just – 

Jensen’s right hand releases his hip and slips around to grasp Jared’s cock, tugs once, and Jared screams into Jensen’s mouth.

He pulls back because he can’t fucking _breathe_, it’s so intense, and his vision is whited out, and his muscles are trembling, too weak to hold him any more, and there’s a roaring in his ears that still doesn’t completely drown out Jensen’s shout as he comes, following him over almost immediately and collapsing down onto Jared’s back, shaking slightly. Jared can feel Jensen’s cock inside him, can feel him _coming_, and that’s it, he can’t hold himself up at all any more, it’s just too much.

Jensen can probably tell that Jared can no longer support himself at all, because he tugs them both onto the plush carpeting, pulling out carefully while Jared is distracted by trying to arrange his limbs into some modicum of comfort. Finally, they’re facing each other, limbs all tangled together, faces nearly touching, breath mixing, touching everywhere they can despite the heat and the sweat and lube that’s somehow gotten _everywhere_.

Jared exhales and struggles to open his eyes, looking at Jensen. “Ohmygod,” he slurs.

“Mmmmhmmmm,” Jensen half-groans, smiling dopily at Jared, his own eyes over-green and stuck at half-mast.

They lay there smiling at each other for a few minutes, until suddenly Jensen rolls over, grabs one of the notebooks that’s lying haphazard on the ground, and hauls himself over to the desk. The notebook gets opened to the first blank page, Jensen snatches up a pen, and he starts scribbling, his tongue stuck between his teeth.

Jared stays still for a moment, confused. Then he stays still a little longer, because, yeah, sure, it was a great plan. But, surely, _surely_ Jensen is kidding with this shit.

But Jensen doesn’t come back to the nice soft floor, so Jared props himself up onto his elbows and watches in disbelief as Jensen hunches awkwardly over the desk, standing, still fully naked, and fully in the zone.

Well. Okay then. Jared flops onto his back again and closes his eyes. So…it _actually_ worked. He’s glad, obviously – he wasn’t really sure this would do anything other than calm his own raging libido, to be honest, although he’d _hoped_ \- but, seriously? They’d been right in the middle of some seriously satisfying afterglow snuggles, and here he was, lying on the floor, abandoned, while his stupid boyfriend wasn’t paying him even a little bit of attention.

He drifts for a while, listening to the by now unfamiliar sound of pen on paper, letting his body relax and recover. About ten minutes later, the scratching abruptly stops. Jared cracks an eye open to see Jensen crouching down next to him.

“Hey, baby,” he says softly, kissing Jared sweetly. “Thank you. Seriously. Thank you _so_ much. I really needed – I just. Well.” Jensen exhales and smiles down at Jared, sitting back a bit. “I love you. I am so lucky to have you.”

Jared grins tiredly. “Damn straight.”

“But, Jared…” Jensen’s voice turns serious, and Jared’s eyes both fly open. What _now_??

“Jared, can we maybe go back to our room and lie down for a while? I mean, really, I’m exhausted. I just had some really athletic sex _and_ I outlined my entire next book - _including_ the title.” Jensen’s trying to seem put-upon, but he can’t hold his smile back for shit. “So, whataya say? Wanna go take a nap for a while?”

Jared bursts into laughter despite his sore stomach muscles. “Oh, you did, huh? That’s what you were doing up there? Musta been all that _really fantastic_, life-affirming sex, huh? I’m a fucking _god_. Hey, Jen, am I your muse? Huh? Am I? Are you gonna write me a _dedication_? Will it be all flowery?”

Jensen rolls his eyes and stands back up. “I’m getting us water and then I’m going to bed. You can come with me, or you can lie here on the floor congratulating yourself.” With that, he walks out, and Jared pulls himself into a sitting position, watching as his boyfriend wanders out of the Study – totally naked still. Score.

“Admit it!” he yells, getting up and starting to pick their clothes up. Their shirts and pants are absolutely _soaked_ with sweat and needed to go straight into the laundry. He pauses at the door, looking back at the absolute disaster of the room, then shrugs. It’s _Jensen’s_ room, after all – he can clean it up his own damn self. Wandering towards the laundry, he continues his train of thought. “I have a fucking _magical_ dick. My cock comes inspiration! My penis produces poetry! All you needed was a little lovin’ and you were right back to – ”

“Oh my god, shut _up_!”


End file.
